


what not to wear

by jamesdeandickqueen



Category: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, high fashion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 11:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15750765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesdeandickqueen/pseuds/jamesdeandickqueen
Summary: tan doesn't need any help with his clothes, but antoni knows better.





	what not to wear

“too much.” antoni’s sprawled across the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, one knee up over the left arm, a martini delicately balanced on top. he points aimlessly at the figure in front of him with a flip of his wrist.

tan shoots a glare at him via his reflection in the full-length mirror, where he turns slowly, studying where the fabric of his suit jacket lay across his middle, how taut the buttons are, whether or not it may need re-tailoring – again.

"you've clearly got no idea what you're saying." he returns to his own reflection, haughty and confident. "stick to feeding me, i'll stick to dressing myself."

"sure, but you're wrong."

tan is visibly ignoring the taller figure approaching in the mirror behind him, unrolling the cuff of his sleeve and turning to the side. two hands are reaching for him in the reflection and he simply looks away, off into the corner, as if he were alone in the room.

antoni's fingers, the ones not holding the stem of a martini, reach around his side and unbutton the suit jacket. tan can hear him taking a nonchalant sip next to his ear as he slides his hand underneath the lapel and guides it off his shoulder, followed by the the other, and the garment falls to the ground in a brightly-colored heap between their feet.

"excuse me, that's got a hanger," tan starts, "and it goes very well with—"

the martini is suddenly under his nose. "hold this."

he frowns, taking it but bringing it up to his lips as reimbursment. he drinks and watches curiously as antoni leans up against his back and slowly unbuttons every single button of his shirt, his insightful eyes never once bothering to meet tan's in the mirror. he tugs his top up out of his slacks, but then smooths it down and folds it open delicately, leaving tan with half a suit and half a bare-chested, king-of-the-jungle sort of ensemble.

"there," antoni says simply, letting his chin rest on tan's shoulder to admire his work in the mirror. "too much clothing."

tan finishes off antoni's gin and pats his cheek, staring at them together. "i can't believe that i continuously let you waste my time like this."

antoni withdraws himself from under tan's arms and indifferently plucks the empty glass from his fingers.

"thrilled i could serve to be ogled by a pervert," tan grumbles, shaking out his jacket, as if it's at all dusty from its brief stint on the floor of his spotless home. "i'll be especially grateful when i'm re-ironing this, thank you."

antoni's back in his armchair, legs delicately crossed as he folds his hands in his lap. "give me a spin."

"give me a twenty."

antoni almost lets a smile slip. "ooh, she's got a price."

tan turns anyways, glancing back at the mirror a final time to watch the freed fabric twirl behind him. it isn't a completely awful look, if one had reservations at an all-gay resort in 1981. his gaze settles back on antoni, who's leaned back in the chair, head cocked ever so slightly and not at all ashamed of the riveted stare he's got locked on tan's body.

"my eyes," tan says coyly, taking a step closer with each word, "are up here, love."

antoni pointedly does not take his eyes off tan's bare chest. "and?"

tan tips his chin up and presses their lips together. he can feel antoni grinning against his mouth and it just makes him want to kiss him harder, fingers digging into the perfectly-manicured stubble on his jawline. there's a satisfied groan that slips out of one of them, or maybe both of them, and he takes it as a cue to slot his knee right in between antoni's legs, easing forward until he's rubbing slow circles against his dick.

antoni just moans softly against his lips and tan's pretty sure he needs to hear that again. he leans in closer as antoni tugs on the lapels of his open shirt, letting him grind down against the toned muscle of his thigh.

tan doesn't waste any time. "alright, what do i get to do to you?" he breathes between kisses, a hint of fervor in his voice.

in response antoni grabs his hips and outright ruts up his leg. he's growing harder by the second and, well, tan can't bear to let him suffer any longer. at least not here, anyway.

he fights antoni's attempt to haul him into his lap and instead urges him to his feet, pulling him backward across the room. they bump into the mirror, tan trapped beneath him now, and the kiss deepens, turns hungry and crushing and then antoni's hands card through tan's perfectly coiffed hair and he grips it, hard.

tan makes a surprised "mmph!", but antoni's boring down at him, his eyes dark, brow furrowed, sweat beginning to sheen at his temples. tan notes the air of desperation.

"you know i hate when you do that," he grits out, despite the moan he's biting back.

the grasp on his hair tightens and draws him in closer, tufts of gray pulled almost rigid between antoni's unyielding fingers. "i know," he replies crookedly, his breath like fire on tan's lips.

tan growls and latches onto antoni's neck, drawing the soft skin between his teeth, as if trying to wedge himself even closer. antoni swears and turns his head to bare as much of the column of his neck as he can as his fists move further up on tan's head, weaving into the longer hair there, guiding his mouth down to his collarbone where he finds his shirt is already rucked up over his torso.

antoni releases his clutches long enough to get the tight white t-shirt up over his head and, before he can grab on again, tan ducks down and loosens his belt, yanking on either side to turn him away from the mirror as he drops his jeans to the floor. antoni moves to step out of them but tan digs his fingers into his waist.

"no, you stay right there," tan says, sidling back up. he won't be helplessly lugged around like... well, yes he will, but he won't be the only one.

antoni makes a low noise in his throat and rolls his hips, hands running down tan's back underneath the open shirt to hold him in place as he presses forward, trying to gain friction. his briefs slide on tan's slacks, all the waves of fabric caught up between them failing to hinder any of the heat from his cock hard against tan's hip.

naturally, tan makes a show of graphically licking his palm before he finally drops it between them. easing his underwear to the side, he drags his fist up antoni's cock and listens to his breath hitch, feels it against his face.

antoni's eyelids loll. he's rigid all over, the expanse of his stomach, the lines of muscle, underneath the trail of hair down his navel. he shivers in tan's arms, his fingers blindly trailing all the way up the edges of his button-down until they reach his neck, where he encircles them and moans into his hair.

there's a jaunty little shake to tan's head as he beams at the mess antoni's crumpling into. "and what now?" he asks, stroking languidly, as if they've got all the time in the world.

their foreheads come together as antoni's hands settle on his face. "aah, like that," the words tumble out of him, voice wavering, "baby, stay here."

tan uses his other hand to pull him closer by the waist and kisses along his jawline in soft little bites and sucks until antoni's rocking back against him, making the sweetest little satiated noises in time with the steady stripping of his cock. his fingers thread back up into tan's hair, this time lifting their mouths together, and tan can feel exactly when he starts pumping harder by the way antoni's kissing grows languid and lazy.

tan pauses and dips his head to rest against antoni's scruffy cheek, glancing sideways into the mirror. his eyes catch the way antoni's mouth has fallen slack, the whiteness of his knuckles tangled in his hair, how much his back arches into his touch. his toes curl underneath the pile of denim that's stretched tight between his ankles. tan just leans his weight into his chest and moans.

antoni's eyes drift open, finding tan's in the mirror, and he sounds almost injured as he breathes, "oh, fuck," and pulls hard enough on tan's hair to scalp him.

tan twists around and lines kisses across his collarbone and up his neck to keep his head swiveled, making him watch them together in the mirror. "mmm, sweetheart, you look so good like that," he murmurs against the hot wetness of his skin, half trying to take his mind off how bad this is going to be for his roots, and half trying to punish him for it.

antoni's breathlessly begging, "harder, harder," and tan isn't sure whether he means his mouth or his hand but he still manages to pull off both because the harmony of antoni's raspy, pleading voice and the thunking of his belt against the floor with his increasingly fitful movements sounds just like music. the way antoni's fingers finally, finally relax in his tousled hair, wrists rolling over and slipping is how tan knows he's done for.

antoni's weight almost buckles forward as his stomach hollows out and he lets tan work him right over the edge, ripping his eyes away from the mirror to sloppily capture his lips at the last moment. it's not quite a kiss, more of an open-mouthed stutter of tan's name against the corner of his mouth, but he jovially hums right back as antoni comes all over himself between them.

his eyes are still screwed shut as he drops his head to tan's shoulder, panting, shuddering into the gentle circles of his fist until they come to a stop. the barrel of his chest heaves against tan's and he just stays there, arms trembling around him, his breath struggling to return to normal. he lets his eyes blink open as cum drips down his navel and off tan's hand onto his jeans below.

"ew," he says vacantly.

"you're lucky you did this," tan replies, motioning to his open half-suit. "do you know what semen does to tri-color cotton? i'd never speak to you again."

antoni's too defeated to retort, just shakes his buzzing head and presses his lips to tan's messy hair. he smooths it down, fingers gently combing through it this time, almost woefully. "sorry, tanny."

"no you're not." almost.

"if it makes you feel any better, you can do whatever you want to mine," he says, pulling back a bit and tipping his head as an offering.

tan flicks his eyes up, away from where he's shamelessly gazing at the cum rolling down antoni's muscles in their reflection, meeting his stupid smirk. "just your hair?"

when tan pushes him off and bounds to the bathroom antoni follows magnetically, finally kicking his jeans away somewhere behind them. he leans against the door frame, watching tan run his hand under the water and endows him with a knowing, somewhat bothersome look.

tan rejoins him with the hand towel, sponging it almost sadly across his messy stomach. "all i'll say is that i am mentioning you by name at my hairdresser's."

he turns to toss the rag in the sink and antoni's large arms slide around his waist, pulling him in against the fresh dampness. tan manages to twist back around to come face to face, antoni zipped flat against him, grabbing and maybe briefly kneading handfuls of his ass.

tan's smiling until suddenly antoni uses that grip to hoist him upward. it takes a second for tan's brain to catch up to his body and how it's being lifted from the ground and held there and oh, shit, he's hastily folding his arms and legs around antoni's back, blinking down at him.

it's antoni's turn to smirk, happily draped underneath tan, arms twisted among the flowing fabric of his shirt. he lets his fingers drift underneath the waistband of his trousers as he slowly backs them out of the room.

while tan is aware he's rather lithe, he feels practically weightless now, his entire body bracketed in one spot while his constricted erection grazes antoni's skin with each step. hair almost entirely deflated in his face, he tries to thread words together between heavy breaths but comes up empty, simply cradling antoni's head to his own chest so he doesn't have to deal with his egotistical grin.

antoni, being antoni, presses the softest, sweetest kisses to where he's nestled under tan's collar, his shoulder, the arms clinging onto his own as he skillfully navigates to the edge of the mattress. he turns on his heels and altogether drops tan, barely allowing him room to breathe before he's blanketed over him.

"you have _got_ to let me suck you off," antoni's saying heatedly, wrenching tan's pants off before he even realizes they were unbuttoned. "please, tan."

"i thought i got to choose?"

"gonna decline?" antoni shucks his underwear down and hikes his legs up, slinging them over his fucking shoulders.

"nope," tan says to the ceiling, head already tipped back in the pillows.

antoni can't resist leaning in and licking thick, broad stripes along the length of his cock, teasingly, before tan's even situated. he falls to his elbows on the bedspread, the trim muscles of his shoulderblades rolling under tan's calves, listening to him groan, fairly irritated. antoni thinks the better of it and stays down there, leaving the unbuttoned shirt hanging off tan's shoulders for the dramatic effect of it all.

by the time his dick is grazing the back of antoni's throat, tan's head is completely buried in the pillows. his knees shakily fall in against antoni's shoulders as he presses back into the rhythm. antoni's just constantly purring with tan's cock in his mouth and it's quite god damn distracting, but tan's body seemingly always betrays him, because he just melts further and further into his touch each time.

he lets his fingers run through antoni's hair, gently, down the sides of his face, feeling the way his stubbly jaw all but unhinges underneath his hands. he pulls off every once in a while to press his wet lips to tan's palms and whisper wonderful things, nonsensical phrases, things like, "god you're beautiful," as he mouths along the insides of his thighs.

"oh, darling," is all tan chuckles, but his voice is punctuated with pure unadulterated adoration.

antoni's hands grip around his hips and yank him closer, ass flush with the tops of his shoulders as he essentially whines around his dick and tan wants to kick him. all his hope for sanity vanishes without a trace whenever antoni weaves those tiny, feather-light gestures in the middle of what could have been just vulgar, filthy fucking sex.

"goddammit," tan hisses aloud, and hopes antoni takes it as a compliment and doesn't notice the sharpness it slips out with. it seems to be championed either way as the cadence of antoni's head dipping between his legs conquers his willpower and heat begins to snake through his lower body and circle faster and faster.

he moves to warn him but it's not like he has to, antoni always knows. his hands slide underneath tan's ass, gathering him closer and closer and he has the nerve to moan _impatiently_ around him.

tan jerks his head up from the sheets to finally look at him, hopeful that the glare he's trying to shoot down succeeds in conveying his exasperation rather than the futility that's blossomed across his cheeks and down his neck. the warmth that ripples through his chest finally pools between his thighs, where antoni's lips are tight around the base of his cock and his eyes readily meet tan's wavering gaze, until antoni falls out of focus entirely and tan sinks his hands into his hair a final time.

tan barely notices when antoni's slid his dick out of his mouth and joins him at the head of the bed. of course he looks positively gleeful as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. he reaches for tan's hair again, ignoring his laments, starts fixing it lazily like tan didn't just cum down his throat.

the griping's usually bearable when tan finally lets his eyes drift open, all sweaty and breathless, and fiercely closes the gap between them the way he always winds up doing. so when antoni lowers himself down to rest against the warm, steady swell of his chest, twisting his shirt between his fingers, tan finally blinks wearily up at him and uses the last of his dwindled energy to wrap his arms around antoni's neck and tug him into a kiss.


End file.
